


Ad Astra per Aspera - Through Adversary to the Stars

by Pureblood_Muggle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21744271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pureblood_Muggle/pseuds/Pureblood_Muggle
Summary: This fic was written for Weasleys, Witches, & Writers Facebook group’s Flash Comp. My chosen main character is Percy Weasley, and the prompt for this Edition was Common Room.Winner: Best CharacterisationThank you for the votes!
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39
Collections: Weasleys Writing War - Flash Comp Edt 1





	Ad Astra per Aspera - Through Adversary to the Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [WeasleysWitchesWriters](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeasleysWitchesWriters/pseuds/WeasleysWitchesWriters) in the [Weasleys_Writing_War_Flash_Comp_Edt_1](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Weasleys_Writing_War_Flash_Comp_Edt_1) collection. 



> I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe. I thank my Alpha/Beta, MaraudingManaged, for her work on this story.

Percy Weasley had always been the odd one out. 

At home, even though he was surrounded by a veritable gaggle of siblings, he was alone. His two older brothers were close - by age, as well as in temperament - and so from day one, Percy had been the spare wand; unintentionally, certainly without malice, but a spare nonetheless.

Then his younger twin brothers came along, and they were as tight as could be; a single spirit in two bodies. By the time Ron and Ginny had been old enough to play with, he was so used to being excluded by the other four that he didn’t even try to fit in with them. It didn’t seem worth it.

Despite being surrounded by siblings aplenty Percy Weasley had, if you asked him, always been an only child. The child of a couple of dreamers - two people who thought that their love for each other would overcome all obstacles, and who didn’t seem to understand the class division they’d bestow upon their offspring as, child by child, they lost all ambition to better their fortunes.

There was no doubt that he loved his parents dearly, and he would curse anyone who suggested differently, but in his mind, it was clear that they didn’t see the world for what it truly was. 

Percy knew this for a fact. He’d learned it the hard way when he started Hogwarts and some of the other boys in his year made fun of him for his second-hand robes, his hand-me-down textbooks, his abundance of siblings. So Percy dove into the only thing he could control: his schoolwork. He knew, just  _ knew _ , that if he was the best in his classes then they couldn’t sneer at him anymore. 

So Percy had worked and worked and didn’t bother with trying to make friends - though at first, he had looked for them. Then second year rolled around, and the bullying had started on the Hogwarts Express the minute one of the boys found out that he’d been given sandwiches instead of buying his lunch from the trolley. 

Oh, but he’d show them. He’d show all of them that Percy Weasley wasn’t like the rest of his family; that he wasn’t poor, that he would be someone of consequence someday.

Yes, Bill and Charlie took pity on him and tried to include him in study sessions when they were still at Hogwarts themselves, but that’s all it was, Percy knew: pity. 

He didn’t want to be pitied. He wanted to be respected. Respected for his high regard for rules, for his intellect, his academic achievements, his impeccable manners. By the time both Bill, and later Charlie, had become prefects, Bill going on to become Head Boy, Percy wondered how they had accomplished it without so much as trying. 

Both his older brothers lacked what he considered... decorum. Percy could grudgingly admit that they both found it easy to get their fellow students’ attention and hold it, especially the female student body. Percy shuddered at the thought - the way the girls threw themselves at his brothers, as if dating was going to go out of fashion, was utterly crass and quite frankly disgusting. 

No; Percy had decided he would gain respect without silly antics on broomsticks, or dressing like some Muggle rockstar outside of lessons. Neither of those options was dignified or tasteful. He needed to elevate the Weasley name out of the trench they’d slid into: being recognised as the poor, read-headed brood. Even those who didn’t come right out to say it clearly thought it - like Oliver Wood, the one dorm mate who never made fun of Percy. Then, Percy considered with a sigh, Oliver never really interacted with anyone unless it was about Quidditch. What Oliver did do, though, was pretend that he’d accidentally bought too much of whatever he’d asked for, and offered the spare to Percy. New ink, extra parchment, sweets - as if he was a needy orphan out of a Victorian novel, rather than a possible friend. Percy had  _ hated _ it, even as he took it, because he had no choice but to accept what meagre scrapings were offered to him.

But time passed, as it was wont to do, and Percy Weasley stood in the deserted Gryffindor Common Room, Head Boy badge glinting in the glow of the fire and old oil lamps long after the last student had gone to bed. He gazed out the window across the grounds, a well-thumbed copy of  _ Prefects who gained Power _ tucked under one arm. 

He stood impossibly tall and impeccably straight, his robes neatly pressed and his tie properly knotted. Not a hair out of place; everything as it ought to be… except nothing truly was. He’d worked himself to the bone for his whole Hogwarts career. He’d become Prefect and Head Boy. He’d abided by all the rules, received highest marks in all of his subjects.

And yet...

And yet, what did it matter? A serial killer Azkaban escapee had managed to break into his realm, into his sacred place, the Gryffindor Common Room, under his watch. What did any of it matter when his fellow students were so incredibly reckless that Godric himself would surely be turning in his grave?

His dream of leaving a legacy, of becoming a chapter in the book he was holding, split apart at the seams, day by day, hour by hour. At the rate his administration was being tested, he was sure the only mention he’d get was that of a failure, a stain on the honourable offices of Prefect and Head Boy. 

Percy sighed and adjusted his glasses. He would redeem himself; again. Failure was simply not an option. 

It was then, in the evening hours of March once the students had been back in their own dormitories - having spent the previous night in the Great Hall for their own protection - that Percy decided drastic measures were needed. 

He would begin writing applications to Ministry positions and he would rise up through the ranks, determined to become someone of consequence within the government. Percy would not stagnate in a dead-end job like his father. No, he would do  _ important _ work. He would gain power and means, and break the cycle of poverty whilst remaining principled.

The name Weasley was going to be said with reverence one day - true reverence, the kind of awe that others will aspire to. Maybe he’d even become Minister of Magic someday. 

Percy nodded to himself. He would get past this; put this unfortunate episode behind him and take the high road. He would continue on his path and remain an upstanding citizen of Wizarding Britain. 

He turned to Godric Gryffindor’s portrait on the opposite side of the Common Room. Courage. Determination. Bravery. Daring. Nerve. Chivalry. 

Percy knew he would need to draw on every ounce of his Gryffindor nature to do what had to be done, likely to the detriment of his own family. It gnawed at him, for after all, Mother and Father only ever meant well. He loved them with all his heart, and for that reason alone he would elevate their name by sheer graft whilst they came to see the truth. Not only would he make the Weasley name one to be proud of in years to come, but he would do it by the rules so nary a word could be said to besmirch his legacy.

He took another look around, walked over to the study table against the wall and straightened the chairs against it. At least for now, here in his little kingdom, order had been restored. 

Percy Weasley smiled to himself as he used his wand to extinguish the last of the lamps and bank the fire. He was still the odd one out, of that there could be no doubt. But, he decided, it was a necessity if he wanted his future to play out the way he planned.

And he quite fancied his odds.


End file.
